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Log: Vaya Decepticon Dios
Mexico Covering almost 762,000 square miles, rugged, mountainous Mexico is a land of extreme diversity: the modern tourist resorts coexist with awe-inspiring ancient cities, and snow-capped volcanoes slope down to evergreen forests, colorful deserts, and endless tropical beaches. The huge, crowded metropolis of Mexico City is only a short distance from tiny villages. Mexico's diversity is also reflected in its people; there are over 50 different indigenous peoples with different languages and customs. Contents: ARCH OF TRIUMPH A bloody warning Decepticon Battle Bunker Decepticon Battle Bunker Bus Station Mezcala Processing Facility TIJUANA, MEXICO The Decepticon post-Olympic celebration has begun -- a remote terraforming unit, usually used for installing self-sustaining mining rigs on asteroids, was dropped from orbit the second the truce ended. The city never stood a chance, although the Decepticons did give them an hour or so to evacuate. Now, though, it's flattened, small spires of metal jutting up here and there, the entire place turned into a playground for the celebrating Decepticons. This includes three-time gold medalist Galvatron, who sits on an elevated throne, looking pompous and regal with his medals around his neck. He sneers at the music (loud, courtesy of the Unplayed Constructicon All-Trumpet Jazz Combo), dancing (ostentatious, for 80 cartoons), and general drunken merriment. "My lord," a nameless Decepticon jet says, pointing at a large spire covered by Decepticon-labeled tarpaulin. "It's nearly time!" "So it is," Galvatron harrumphs, and gets up to fly over to the covered spire. "DECEPTICONS!" he calls, his huge voice cutting through the party atmosphere, and the Constructicon's jazz ceasing when he shoots their trumpets' ends off. "TODAY -- WE STAND UNITED... ANOTHER OLYMPICS CONQUERED... ANOTHER DISPLAY... OF OUR SUPERIORITY! WE HAVE CLAIMED THIS 'TIJUANA' FROM THE HUMANS -- EVEN NOW THEY BICKER AND SQUABBLE FAR AWAY, THEIR CORRUPT AND USELESS GOVERNMENT TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT TO... 'DO' ABOUT US! THEY CAN DO /NOTHING/! AND WE -- /WE/ SHALL MAKE MERRIMENT, AND CELEBRATE OUR POWER, AND REMIND THEM ALL WHAT /WE/ ARE CAPABLE OF!" Galvatron reaches for the mecha-rope securing the tarp. "AND IN CASE THEY DON'T GET THE HINT--" The tarp falls away, revealing three robots -- Autobots -- chained to the spire. They look like they transform into human automobiles. One is red and black, with a hood jutting from his chest. One is black, with the same construction, only boxier. One is white, with molten guns stabbing forth from his shoulders. "LET THE FESTIVITIES NOW /TRULY/ BEGIN!" Galvatron fires his fusion cannon at the fuel tanks left under the Autobots, and the music starts up again, over the Omnibots' screams as they burn. Ooooh burning Autobots! Sharkticon dances around the 'barbecue' with glee. Maybe Galvatron will throw him an Autobot Drumstick when they're cooked? "Wooo! Now this is what I call a party!" Skullcruncher shouts to anyone who can hear him over the screams of the dying and music. Dreadwind is in a collapsed pile nearby he has been pulling double shifts on defence duties since the Olympics started and been very very lonely, nothing happened as the Autobots are as interested in that pointless event as the majority of the Decepticons are. Except for that one incident with Soundwave that ended up with him mysteriously on a planet or rather moon of bars, eventually he parked enough shuttles to buy his way home. It's not like anyone else was going to help him and finally the other Decepticons return, things can only get worse from here on, the needless partying is but the first sign of the agony to come. Excise had been sittin' around, admiring the view and enjoying an ener-brew. "This place is really starting to look like home," he comments regarding all the spires and the like, nodding his approval. He watches the Decepticon femmes as they dance up until Galvatron flies over to the spire and lands. He stands up to listen to his leader's words. He points and laughs as the Omnibots are destroyed. "Hail Galvatron!" he shouts, raising his energon cube up in a toast. Hook smiles as the Autobot barbeque gets ignitied and looks for the open bar or keg or something in order to get himself a drink or two. Not too much though it could affect his ever so perfect metabolism and skills. Laserbeak is promptly flung off of Gnaws head and shoot, everyone was coming together for a totem pole and he was going to be the top one. Laserbeak takes to the air and circles around a bit watching the fire, listening to the autobots crying out and records if for posterity into his databanks. *HIC* Ramjet throws his cone back as he works through a systems stutter facilitated by heavy drinking. "Mmn.." he gives into a groan, wiping his lips with the back of his metal hand. He tilts his head forward, focusing his optics in the direction of the three Autobots that Galvatron has revealed. "Wh-- I don't get it," he hiccups as he tells Parasite. Ramjet glances back, "HEY! You aren't DIRGE! You're that damnable Count, Parasite!" Shadow is keeping to himself, not bothering to interact with anyone. He gets little respect, so what's the point in even trying? He's standing a good distance from the other Decepticons, arms folded over his chestplate. As Galvatron starts to burn the Autobots, Shadow glances up, but says nothing. Snapdragon is wide awake for a change of pace, meandering about in his robot mode with nothing in particular compelling him forward. Perhaps this 'merriment' thing would be worth trying out, after all, he had spent the majority of his time in the Olympics drinking, or asleep from overdrinking. He takes in the Autobot bonfire with unrestrained pleasure in his optics, then grabs hold of a smaller nameless Decepticons energon cube before she can drink it. "Hail Galvatron indeed. I do always enjoy a good Autobot burning." The Horrorcon growls contentedly to the other Cons near the barbeque. Monitor is among the crowd of Decepticons, he tries to enjoy himself but he is not too happy about being here...however it would not have been wise to ignore the summon. He coldly watches the Omnibots being obliterated by Galvatron. Good riddence. A lone truckstop on Mexican Highway Nu-69beta shudders in the sun, appearing to waver and flciker in and out of reality. The heat is a funny thing. The Mexican sun is joined by a very real fire, as the truckstop begins burning. 'ese cuarto de bao tena cada lady' s nombra exhausto sobre la pared, yo podra considerar a Pablo Picasso en cada warbly lettler, mi amigo. las cortinas de Salvador Dali colorearon el yeso que formaba escamas alrededor del agujero de gloria. Entonces estaba, mi amigo, que saba Haba estado en ese cuarto de bao del truckstop por tres meses, y ese artista visionario que adorn la parada era yo, el gran Pitchfork.' A wood paneled Starfighter shoots out from the wreckage of the truckstop, adorned with bells and paintings of burros. Striking like a mezcal-slickened dagger toward the preceedings. "a ponemos chancla, muchachos." The very wind recedes into an extended siesta. 'Mientras que mi fondo fiduciaria retrocedi en el gran ter fiscal, haba considerado muchas opciones. El dinero no compra felicidad, pero somos robustezas, nosotros no nos programamos para la felicidad. Nos programan consumir. Quadlunar Quaaludes don' t crece en arboledas del agavo, ningun dinero es mgico.' "Buenos dias. Vamos al borlo." Ramjet pauses from pouring himself another drink. "...I just had this strange feeling. That somewhere nearby, something awesome yet completely cliche just happened." Ramjet glances at his bottle. XXX proof. "No. Wait. It's the booze." Hook finally finds a decent keg and fills up his own mug, yeah he's not going to take a dirty one that a terrorcon might have used or something. His own mug with a golden on it. Could be worse he could be unplayed and be assigned to trumpet duty. Guess winning 2 medals can get you off the hook for certain things. Dreadwind watches as the various Decepticons party and socialise whilst he is left alone in the cold without a single person to call friends, at times like this he feels even more alone than when left in the middle of nowhere. The warmth from the Auto-barbecue barely even reaches him, though watching their bodies slowly being consumed reminds him of his own mortality as his life slowly, painfully slips away. Dreadwind either doesn't notice or more likely doesn't care about whatever happened at the truckstop. Galvatron grins as the Omnibots burn and burn and burn. Little does he know their lasercores are fireproofed, but that's neithere here nor there til someone uses them again. "HA!" he cries, turning back to face the crowd. "HA!" He seems to be actually enjoying himself, which is in and of itself a little frightening. Hopping down to mingle, Galvatron casts his red eyes over each and every person he passes. He sees Excise on the one hand; Shadow on the other. "You two!" he barks, suddenly and curtly, as if angry. "It is only in such /gregarious circumstances/ that I am willing to say this," he growls, tone grim and dark... "You have /served me well/. Your loyalty -- is /REWARDED/! Consider yourselves both /PROMOTED/." He snorts, and begins walking onward: "Now someone find me /RAMJET/." Excise starts to sit back down, but then Galvatron suddenly shouts at him. "Sir I didn't do it!" he exclaims, saluting. "I..." but then Galvatron explains, and a wide grin crosses his face. "Ah ha, thank you mighty Lord Galvatron! I promise I shall use my rank wisely." He then kicks a passing gumby in the butt, "You there! Refill my energon cube, slave!" He tosses the cube at the gumby and then looks over at Shadow. "High five!" he exclaims, raising his hand. Shadow snaps his gaze up to face Galvatron. He blinks in disbelief, then the reality sets in. "Thank you, milord!" he manages, and then he turns to Excise to return the high-five. Reflector tends bar, not a celebration type when there is gumby work to be done. Dispensing energon cubes. Removing empties and half empties forgotten about. Moving lightweights out of the way of the main celebration grounds. He doesn't bother watching the burning torturous slow execution of the three gumby Autobots unworthy of names. Skullcruncher just stares at Excise and Shadow. Promotions? Please! "I could get a promotion too if I felt like it" he snorts to a random Decepticon jet. "I just don't feel like it." Ramjet continues drinking, oblivious to Galvatron looking for him at the moment. After he's taken another shot does he realize that Parasite wasn't there at all and that Ramjet has been talking to no one the entire time. "...good shtuff... hunh.." he marvels. Laserbeak gets tired of circling around and spies Dreadwind slumped down by himself near the bot bonfire. He swoops downward and comes to rest on Dreadwinds shoulders. He squawks, <"Nice fire isn't it?"> Monitor blinks Excise and Shadow are promoted... he read their files...he made personal files about them...like he does for all Decepticons. And thoe promotion are totally unexpected...however that the kind of things that Galvatron can do...he should not be surprised. He waits impatiently to see what his mighty leader has in store for Ramjet. Milling about at the Decepticon gala is yet another Reflector drone. However, it seems to be keeping its distance from the others at the bar, wandering among the crowd of Decepticons with a tray of an artfully arranged pyramid of crackling energon goodies. "Pointblank, this is the dumbest idea ever," Peacemaker whispers into his throat mic. "I think the paint is peeling off my power armor already." "Maintain radio silence, Peacemaker. Pointblank out." Peacemaker looks towards Galvatron, wherever he is and whatever he is doing. "Great... just... /great/." Snapdragon looks towards the Decepticon Emperor with a bit of concern. Galvatron being himself was dangerous enough, but when he was happy? How terrifying. Even Horrorcons knew to give Galvatron wide berth, and tonight would certainly be no different. Snapdragon does his best to sort of settle into the crowd of faceless gumbies, still sipping at his energon cube. Of course he is absolutely gigantic (taller than Galvatron even), so hiding is not really his forte by any stretch of the imagination. XF-35B Astral Lightning sort of mingles with people in the background. She accomplished absolutely nothing in the Olympic Games, so it is best to lay low. (Though there are rumour that she paid off the bracket-makers for mysterious reasons. Vicious, treacherous rumours.) Luckily, as an ex-Seeker, she blends in easily with the current Seekers. Pitchfork slings his flannel cyber-poncho over his wood paneled shoulder, revealing sleeve tattoo-patterns explaining the plight of the Az-Techs of yesteryear, obviously inked by the master synthetic artist known as 'Pytchforke.' "ruede ese Carrujo de mierda, gatito," he says to Galvatron, camly pointing a rolled-up copy of Space Lowrider Magazine at the Robot Overlord, "Mucho bomba." 'Las explicaciones marchitaron debajo del sol nuclear, dejando mis pinturas al vapor entre las jeringuillas y las agujas vacas del cacto. S, era hora de hacer el wardance para cosechar la cosecha profana. Era tiempo. Para pedir Galvatron dinero.' Pitchfork eases his sombrero down over his optic sensors. "Mi carnal." 'Mientras que desciendo en el volcn del uno mismo que detesta, no puedo dejar la maravilla el resplandor del magma tan brillantemente como I hizo una vez? O endurecer inmediatamente en algo gris y feo algo como ahora estoy?' Galvatron, in the course of looking through the crowd for Ramjet, spots Skullcruncher. "YOU! You serve Scorponok, do you not?!" he snaps, pointing at the green robot. ".../come with me/," he hisses, making it clear that this is not an invitation so much as an order. Galvatron then also turns to Pitchfork and makes a face. "--what?" Dreadwind watches coldly as the loyalty of others is rewarded, whilst he is lucky if others even notice his presence. Unfortunately at that moment someone does and Laserbeak perches on him. "Nice? No, it is bright and destructive, it reminds me of the final end, the one we cannot escape. Those Autobots are lucky, they die quickly in those flames the flames that shall finally consume me will burn oh so slowly." "HAAAAY, REFLECTOR!" Ramjet bellows cheerily in the direction of Peacemaker. "Yer.. *hic*.. shorter than I remember.. oh boy, this is some.. major stuff. Here, come here. Try some of this. It'll strip the grease off your transistors!" Sharkticon is too impatient to wait for roasting Autobots to finish cooking, so he waddles over to the bar. "Foooood!" he demands, slapping his diminutive fish-shark-arm on the counter once. He then opens his cavernous maw like a Pez dispenser. Indicating that the bartender should fill it. Laserbeak look at the flames and back at Dreadwind, <"Yea they will burn us if we keep staying this close to them."> Skullcruncher looks over his shoulders, hoping Galvatron is talking to a different animal robot that has a transforming head. Damn it, of course not. He grimaces and moves towards Galvatron. "Oh god... One of the ones with pointy heads is talking to me..." Peacemaker keeps talking into his wire for the sake of his sanity. He takes a big swallow and politely approaches Ramjet. "Uhh... Bongiorno," he says, not sure how Decepticons great each other. "Galvatron has me... us... On wait staff tonight, alas. He would be most displeased if I were to get... uh... shit-faced! Would you like a goodie?" He offers the tray up to Ramjet, glancing over his shoulder cautiously. Most Decepticons are fairly oblivious, but a few are known to be cunning when it comes to these things... Hook watches the two promotee and claps for them. No biggie since technically Hook still outranks those two and is not in the same department. Professional jealousy can be terrible. The Constructicon winces a bit as Skullcruncher is called forth. He has no love lost for someone who *gags* 'merged' with an organic creature but there is always an ounce of pity when Galvatron is pissed at someone. "When did you get so short!?" Ramjet asks Peacemaker as he scratches the side of his cone. "Yeah.. yeah.. he wouldn't like that at all.." he attempts to consider. "BUT WAIT!" He leans forward, trying to loop an arm around Peacemaker's shoulders. "I'm ssho in good.. with.. *hic* .. Galvatron. He won't mind. HAVE A DRINK, my old friend who gets no respect!" Dreadwind sighs, although Laserbeak is partially right the fire is warming Dreadwind slightly it doesn't warm him or his emotional void, "Their heat is nothing, a mere pinprick of what is to come, what will have to be endured." Excise high fives Shadow, and then crosses his arms, standing with his chest all puffed out as if he is cock of the walk. And is he not cock of the walk now, with his shiny new promotion? Why I say yes he is cock of the walk! The gumby returns with his energon cube, and Excise takes one sip, frowns, and throws it in the gumby's face. "You imbecile! I asked for a twist of 5W30 oil with my energon!" He kicks the gumby. "W-what? No you-" but Excise kicks the gumby again before he can continue to protest. "You dare question the word of a superior officer?! Go get me my energon, and don't screw it up this time!" As the gumby slinks off, Excise glances over at Pitchfork. Huh, don't recognize that one. Shadow raises an optic ridge as he watches Ramjet, who's clearly overenergized. Deciding not to comment on it, he instead studies the Reflector component that Ramjet is talking to. Something seems odd...which is probably because "Reflector" looks smaller than usual. Shadow glances around, then inches closer. Reflector starts making a passed-out Decepticon pile behind the turned over steel and concrete rubble bar. Draping them over eachother in rather unfortunate positions. for when those on the bottom eventually will come around. Snapdragon exhales sharply. Skullcruncher was on the cutting block for now...perhaps that would sate the high lord fratricidal bloodlust for the evening, though the triplechanging Headmaster doubted it seriously. He begins making his way out of the crowd towards the fire, where Laserbeak and Dreadwind have taken up positions. Snaps was never one to mingle, but perhaps Dreadwind would at least be easier to deal with when intoxicated. "Wonderful night for an Autobot roast, eh?" He asks the Gloomcon and Beaks. Success! thinks Catechism, as Skullcruncher attracts Galvatron's attention. As lon as the Boss is busy with someone who is not her, he is... busy with someone not her. And that's good. She claps for the promotees, solely because some other people are doing it, and she is all about blending in right now. Galvatron begins walking again, nodding to everyone he passes -- Snapdragon, Reflector, Hook, Reflector, Pitchfork, Reflector, Catechism, Pitchfork again because he forgot -- giving off the impression of not so much an imbalanced and dangerous lunatic... as an imbalanced and dangerous lunatic who is making an effort to be courteous. Finally, he spies Ramjet. "RAMJET! QUIT BOTHERING THAT REFLECTOR BODY!" he screams, stamping a foot imperiously. A small crowd begins to clot around to see what happens as Galvatron stares at Ramjet, face twisting into a sneer. "I have let things... /slide/ for a long time, Ramjet," he hisses. Galvatron sweeps his arms melodramatically as his tight, bileful speech continues: "I have /ignored/ problems within the Empire. /My/ Empire. Do you understand? You do. Of course you do. Something has been /rotten/, Ramjet. There are /issues/ I have not /addressed/. Perhaps I only saw what I wanted to see. Perhaps I told myself it was not a concern. Well... now... it is." Galvatron chuckles morbidly. "You know what I'm talking about, Ramjet. Don't you?" Laserbeak was staring at Dreadwind as he spoke, trying to understand exactly what he was saying, when he hears a voice nearby. He turns and sees Snapdragon. With a slight flare of his wings he bobs his head in effect answering 'yes'. Peacemaker is easily coralled into Ramjet's gregarious jet-grip. "Uhhh---hello!" He gasps awkwardly as he gets crushed a little in his powersuit. "I've always been this tall, Ramjet, sorry if I'm not looking particularly impressive tonight! I must be... dwarfed by Galvatron's greatness!" The optics on his powersuit shift from right to left suspiciously. "Oh, what the hell... Why not! What're you drinking..." He stares at Ramjet, squinting, not remembering the jet robot's name. He just mumbles something and coughs, making a sound like Thundercoughdirgescreamsnort. Pitchfork smooths his mustache and pats his burro on the head, "esta chida la rola" Monitor grabs a cube of energon and starts to sips on it. He blended into the crowd because he's good at it...but it would be easier if he had mastered the insecticons cloning technics. Silently he listens to what Galvatron is saying, not knowing what to expect... he knows Ramjet plotted...but again, he's not the only one. What awaits him...death? Promotion? Excise's gaze goes from Pitchfork to Galvatron, who dramatically marches right up to Ramjet. "Huh," he whispers to Shadow, "I wonder what the Aerospace Commander did to get into such trouble." Pause. "Or the /Air/ Commander or whatever the slag he wants to be called these days." "Haha! Ramjet's goin' down!" Skullcruncher chortles. He pounds a fist into his open palm. Dreadwind's mood worsens, if that is even possible as another Decepticon comes over more than likely to bully him over something he did or didn't do. "Wonderful? I guess it is if you don't consider the effort gone into preparing this place, capturing the Autobots for the fire and then the waste of fuel to burn them. All of this will crumble soon enough and we, we shall be running for our lives." "There's no guarantee that he *is* actually in trouble," Shadow whispers back to Excise. "But if he is...I'm just as curious. But enough of that for the moment. There's something odd about that Reflector drone there." A lot of odd things, actually. Snapdragon sighs again. As it turns out his hypothesis has been proven woefully incorrect. Dreadwind is -not- more tolerable when intoxicated. Or perhaps Snaps isn't drunk enough yet! Regardless, he shakes his head and casts dark optics towards the gathering of Decepticons around the Emperor. Galvatron is speaking to Ramjet, and he doesn't sound especially pleased. "Soon enough we shall be running for our lives...well, on that you might actually be right, Dreadwind." Hook returns Galvatron's nod as the leader passes him through the crowd. The Constructicon makes sure not to be part of any collateral damage a disciplinary action could cause. Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's.. it's a plane. One of those ubiquitous F-15 profile jets is circling around and descending from the upper atmosphere, possibly FROM SPACE! Meanwhile, as Galvatron maintains his air of imbalanced and dangerous lunatic who is making an effort to be courteous, Ramjet keeps his quality of drunk incompetence real. You have to keep it real, except when it goes wrong. Just as his lips part to tell Peacemaker what he's drinking, Galvatron shouts at him. "D'AGH, not NOW, Reflector! Can't you see GALBATRON is schpeaking!?" Ramjet's cone whips back with another hiccup. "..ohwait he's yelling at me.. hollon.." "HAIL GALBATRON," Ramjet says as he sloppily rises to his feet, saluting Galvatron with a hand raised to his cone. He tilts his cone forward, his flickering optics processing the sweeping of the Great Emperor's arms melodramatically. Oh crap, he is yelling at Ramjet. "I.. uh.. whuh.. uh.." he swallows hard, over-energized processors stammering to come up to a conclusion. "..uhh.. YEAH!" Ramjet agrees enthusiastically. "That SCORPONOK guy's aimin' to take you down, Great One! All that.. mingling with Nebuloidians for his brain .. it's .. BAD! We must destroy him.. at all costs! *hic*" Excise doesn't actually look at the Reflector robot Shadow is talking about. "Oh yeah that's for sure," he says anyway. He figures it isn't important, and wow watching Galvatron and Ramjet will be way more interesting, if only because the odds of Ramjet getting obliterated back into the Golden Age is a distinct possibility in his mind. "Wow, I wish Scorponok was here," he says. Pitchfork pushes past Dreadwind roughly, shoulders hitting together with a rude clang. 'No importa cmo el fregadero bajo de I en el abismo econmico, yo no alimentar en las ascuas inmundicia-habladas enigmticamente de la parte inferior cenicienta como sta. No, subir de nuevo a la tapa de la pila del desecho y forjar un nuevo imperio pero no en mi imagen. Para una vez que el resto del mundo parece m, soy no ms fresco.' "Lambache." "leo! litro!" Pitchfork demands to the 'waiter.' Peacemaker likewise snaps into a robot Nazi salute, following Ramjet's cue. "Hail Galvatron!" He shouts with enthusiasm, a little wry grin on his metal face. He has no idea Shadow is sniffing him out. "Goodie?" He asks Pitchfork, lifting his tray cordially and keeping one arm lifted in fascist salute to the Purple One. Laserbeak notices the growing situation nearby and makes a noise back toward Dreadwind. He looks back at Ramjet and Galvatron and just watches. No, not a nod from Galvatron! At times like this, Catechism wishes she had Boomslang's powers of invisibility. She tosses an arm in the air and shouts, "Hail, Galvatron!" instead, since that is the second best thing. Galvatron frowns gravely as he lifts his arm -- his arm with the cannon on it -- toward Ramjet. "Say goodbye to your Aerospace Commander," he hisses, his eyes flashing blood crimson. His hand curls into a fist as his cannon steadies-- --and then Galvatron smiles. His wrist turns, his hand opening into an outstretched gesture. He's not shooting Ramjet. He's... presenting him. "...and say hello to the /new governor of Crystal City/." Galvatron then turns to face Skullcruncher. "AND YOU! /YOU/ will be his sheriff! And there will be another -- and it will be -- hm -- who can I give this poisoned chal-- er, promotion to... BLUESHIFT! Yes, Ramjet. SKULLCRUNCHER and BLUESHIFT will be your new minions." "Everyone -- /congratulate/ this drunken oaf on his misf-- er, success!" Snapdragon stares. "That I did not see coming." Excise gasps. He didn't see that coming either! "But what about whatshername?" he asks. "Who /knows/ where she is," Galvatron calls back. Skullcruncher gets to be sheriff! Or a minion! Whichever! "Uhm, yay?" Dreadwind is surprised, both by the fact that Snapdragon didn't just attack him for no reason but also because he listened to what he said and agreed. "Oh we will be running but none shall escape the horrors. The burning fire will seems like a cool oil bath in comparison." Dreadwind isn't worried by the growing situation as it will likely only end with half of those here being the dead the others will be maimed. He's a little disappointed when Galvatron calms somewhat and sideways promotes Ramjet rather than atomising some random person standing nearby. Ramjet's optics turn bright red. Governor. Crystal City? "W--wait.." He says, looking as pale as he can be. Since he is a robot with a dark grey face, he does not look pale at all. "..Civil service!?! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Far more sober than ever, Ramjet glances back to Galvatron, his optics still bright. "D'uhh.. uhh.. uhhhh.. th-thank you, Great Galvatron.." Monitor just stares... governor of Crystal City? Ramjet? The insecticcon drops his cube of energon on the ground. Not that's even more unexpected than he thought. He also wonder what Rodimus...Optimus.. whoever is the Autobot leader will think about that. More important, he wonder what are Galvatron's plans for the city. "Wow, /Ramjet/," Peacemaker says, enunciating Ramjet's name to make it clear he does indeed know who he is, "That sounds really important! You've got big shoes to fill! I hear the last Governor left over 500 stray turbocats in the governor's mansion!" Galvatron begins to cackle evilly, long and loud. Hook almost chokes on his energon...GOVERNOR? The Constructicon mutters to one of his brothers "Honestly...never saw that coming and I mean big time." What next? Shockwave as a press agent? Soundwave as DJ in chief? Hook as head of MSE? Pitchfork looks put off, "No tan asombrosamente. El estatorreactor era Galvatron' novio del secreto de s. Muchachos en el lado. Su sancho." "Turbocats!? STRAY TURBOCATS?!" Ramjet looks mortified! He immediately seeks out Skullcruncher, his new minion. Laying his hands on his shoulders, he gives the Headmaster a firm shake. "SKULLCRUNCHER, my first OFFICIAL ACT in this.." he coughs, "..incrediblyhorriblenewjob.." and then speaks aloud, "IS TO CHARGE YOU WITH CONSUMING ALL OF THE STRAY TURBOCATS." Reflector as the fledgling Tri Predacus Council? Shadow stares. "Congrulations, Ramjet," he states simply. Then he glances around, spots the non-Peacemaker Reflector, and approaches. He motions toward Peacemaker. "That is not one of your components...?" He's very suspicious by now, almost certain that there is a spy present. No one else seems to have really noticed, however, so he's keeping it low until he can be entirely sure. Soundwave claps, but only once, as Galvatron had taught him to do so. The Tape Commander arrives seemingly out of nowhere, keeping a silent sober watch over all those present. Soundwave does not drink it seems. Peacemaker's little mouth forms into a shocked 'O' at Ramjet's proclamation. "Dreadwind. You lost me up until cool oil bath. That part I heard." Snapdragon groans. "Besides, there are more important things afoot than your insane depressing ramblings. It would seem that Ramjet is the new governor of Crystal City." He lowers his gaze back on the Gloomcon and sneers mildly. "Perhaps they will need a new Aerospace Commander. It may be -you-." Shockwave, who has been here the whole time but was colored blue and with two hands until now, says, "As Galvatron's de facto press agent, I will of course issue an appropriate statement to the civilian population of Cybertron upon Ramjet's confirmation as Governor. However, Galvatron, I must lodge a concern: Ramjet's skill set does not seem to me to be... well suited to bureaucracy." Skullcruncher gasps at Ramjet's first order of business. "Ramjet, sir! I will make sure to eat every single turbocat I can find!" "S'good point," Excise says of Galvatron's reply. He gets his energon cube back from the gumby, and his disappointment at not getting to see Ramjet's arms torn off is so great that he doesn't even bother punching the gumby in the face for forgetting to include the side order of bolts he made. Galvatron leans over to Shockwae, whispering a stage aside to him: "Quiet, you cyclopean clod. His mismanagement may trick Omega Supreme into breaking the non-aggression pact, and then we can finally be rid of that Guardian once and for all." Catechism mimes tipping her non-existant hat and says solemnly, with a terrible accent, "Guv'nah!" Shockwave's eye flickers but all he says is, "Affirmative, Great Galvatron." Ramjet strokes his chin. "My second and third acts shall be to absolve ROUGE KEBAB CARTS that RODIMUS PRIME has been SO FOND of hiding within.. and my third act will be to UNLEASH A PLAGUE OF ROBOT RACISM SO THOROUGH THAT OMEGA SUPREME WILL FALL TO HIS KNEES AND WEEP." Reflector is a busy multi-avatar life form in service to the party. The one trying to get a look over he heads of the crowd as it keeps moving about like ants turns to look to Shadow. "What? Who? Where?" Reflector is all over the place. And then he's briefly distracted by the idiocy of Ramjet in all its shining glory, ofcourse. Pitchfork crosses his arms over his chest, the faded green of his sleeve tattoos glinting in the artificial light. 'Cual es un gumby? En que medida somos todos los gumbies los que sean innomados, no respetado por los jugadores de papel del Internet, descritos por viejo argot de la computadora de las decadas? Eramos todos no creados del mismo metal? Si es asi bate el corazn de un gumby en todos nosotros, empujando el aceite a travs de nuestras arterias mecnicas.' Shadow points to Peacemaker. Subtly. "That one. Right there." He pauses, then adds, "The short one." Dreadwind stares at Snapdragon, by now he is used to being almost totally ignored, "Unlikely, the only ones that even know i'm here are you and Laserbeak and he just wants someone to perch on. And though it may comfort you to think it to be so, i am not insane, if that were true i would have been relieved of my misery long long ago."" One of Reflectors bodies quietly steps over to Galvatron carrying an energon cube on the premise of offering it to the great leader when he says, "Lord, is Pitchfork annoying you as much as he is many of your other warriors?" Laserbeak realizes there doesnt look to be a fight coming and looks back as Dreadwind says his name. Mmm good for a perch? Well, yea, but no.. hes not sure. He stays silent and just observes Dreadwind and Snapdragon. Snapdragon lays his arms across his chest. "Actually that brings up a good point Dreadwind. Why haven't you offed yourself yet? I think it would be a tremendous way to save energon for the rest of us, and we wouldn't have to bother ourselves with eventually throwing you into a star. It's practically win/win." The distracted Reflector pinpoints Shadows quarry... "Must be a fan-bot... Everyone gets one I suppose." Shadow shakes his head. "I doubt it..." Pitchfork snorts a little bit when he robo-laughs, "safis! Como el reflector consiguio nunca ser tal panzona del panzona? Me bate, amigos!" Peacemaker has his back to Shadow, paying attention to Galvatron, purple attention whore that he is. Ramjet stalks off to hang out with Pitchfork for a moment. He grumbles, "Necesito una bebida." Suggestive serving Reflector, contemplates flashing Pitchfork... and Ramjet now too. Dreadwind says, "Why? What would be the point? I can't escape my fate, none of us can, we can only die once existence has finished feeding from us, when it has drained every last drop of suffering every last painful moment, only then will we be finally released. There is no point in struggling against it, the only thing to do is just lie still and await the end." Ramjet's optics glow in confusion. "POR QUE SOY EL HABLAR COMO ESTO!? Primer gobernador que se convierte ahora esto, cual es siguiente!!" Balling his hand into a fist, he slams it against his opposite palm with a loud clang. Peacemaker tugs on his powersuit collar. "Jeez... These guys really ARE out there..." He picks up one of his energon goodies and takes a sniff of it. Pitchfork nods to Ramjet, "Si. Necesito un bironga o una derecha de la puta esta maldicion de dios en segundo lugar, virgen bendecida arriba, si no me consigo a una piensa que desconectare mas rapidamente que Jetfire en una escena waterboarding." Excise has lost interest in the Ramjet thing since there aren't any explosions involved. Still, overall this has been a good day, and he likes he idea of Ramjet pissing off Omega Supreme so much that they'll finally get a chance to kill the big fat fatty fat fatso... who's /fat/. Excise may or may not be underestimating the original Autobot last line of defence. Casting his gaze around as he sips from his energon cube (with a twist of 5W30 oil), he spies Pitchfork. "The hell's wrong with that guy?" he asks a little too loudly. Shadow decides to take a chance. He summons his main sword, and approaches Peacemaker. He acts on mere suspicion, although it's enough that he's almost positive there's a spy present. After reaching the false Reflector drone, he stops and points his sword, not even an inch from Peacemaker's neck component. "Hello, 'Reflector'," he hisses dangerously. Now to see if he is correct! Shockwave withholds judgement for the time being on what might be wrong with Pitchfork, other than to say, "His vocabulator is operating in a non-approved mode." Snapdragon narrows his optics. "But you wouldn't be struggling against it if you killed yourself. I'm almost positive that you could die this very instant if Lord Galvatron gets it in his head to shoot you. Somehow I doubt that existence has anything more to feed from you, all things considered." Catechism watches as Shadow... assaults one of the Reflectors? Huh, weird. She cups her hands to her mouth and shouts, "Bar fight!" Sharkticon is getting fed at the bar. He wags his tail and ignores the other goings on. He doesn't understand a word of that spangrish that he's hearing. Hook nods in approval with Shockwave's assessment of Pitchfork's condition. "It seems so commander. Maybe we should sign him up for a complete physical and workover or something." Peacemaker looks surprised, taking a step back when Shadow points his sword at his neck. "H-Hey buddy! What's the matter?" Shit shit shit. Peacemaker glances left to right, seeing Decepticons everywhere. "Pointblank, the jig is up!!" He shouts into his wire. "THINK FAST!!" He hurls his tray of energon goodies towards Shadow's face, trying to pepper him with tiny delicious energy explosions. Pitchfork tips his sombrereo to Shockwave and speaks slowly and politely, "I' m ningun borracho, onda de choque poderosa. Mas alla usted vivo adentro es comodo, el es una cortina verde de 1997. I, sin embargo, nuevo dios. Coloqueme en su cancelacion del alt del control del templo y de la prensa a la reinicializacin. Le encontrar all con un fistful de polvo del agavo del veneno y de un corazon abierto." Combat: Jet Car misses Shadow with his Grab attack! Shadow sidesteps the tray, easily keeping his sword level with Peacemaker's armored neck. "Spy!" he calls, his suspicions now confirmed. "There is a spy in our midst!" Ramjet lets out a sigh. "Si. Buen Pitchfork de la idea. Su idea puede tomar mi mente de esta promocin terrible y la vuelta de la prima del optimus de momento." Now, to scheme to get his old job back! Excise suddenly jumps to his feet. "Spah's sappin' mah sentry!" he blurts out, dropping his energon cube in all the excitement. Dreadwind just stares up at Snapdragon from his resting place on the ground, "It would be a fruitless attempt at freedom of will when there is no freedom, we are all trapped." He sighs heavily, having to explain this over and over agian is just so depressing, no one ever gets it, "That is where you are wrong, existence has everything to do with all actions though its subtlety may have escaped you. You do things to get what you want but from where does that desire come, where do the things you want come from? Find the answer and you will see the hand of existence at work, urging you to do what it wants." Peacemaker runs away from the sword as the energon goodies explode everywhere like festive Cinco de Mayo firecrackers. "No, HE'S the spy!" He points at Shadow while he runs away towards the valet stand. "ESPIA!!!" Ramjet points at Shadow. Reflector finds a dead horse and beats it. Shadow stares as Peacemaker runs. "You lie. I am not the one pretending to be a Reflector drone!" He gives chase. Snapdragon rubs his chin as a bar fight begins in the background. These things happen when alcohol consumptions reaches critical limits. No cause for alarm. "So existence is a being? An entity? You consistently refer to it as a person, even saying it has a hand. I had no idea you were so -religious-." Catechism's optics widen, and she is astounded. She narrates, "An Autobot here, in the heart of a Decepticon enclave? Inconceivable!" It does not mean what she thinks it does. As Peacemaker's ruse is sussed out and Ramjet begins speaking in the language of Galvatron's robo-gardeners, the Decepticon tyrant folds his arms, watching the chaos around him. He can't help but smirk, chuckling cruelly to himself as he watches. "Well, Shadow?" he says. "Did I promote you to /tattle/ -- or did I promote you to /ACT/?!" All three bodies of Reflector intone coldly, "I am no drone. Take that back." Excise hesitates, glad Galvatron directed that question at Shadow and not him. Because lets be honest... tattling /is/ a big part of being a Decepticon officer. Shadow calls back to Reflector, "My apologies!" Whether he's sincere remains to be seen. Hook sets his mug down and instinctively reaches for his lightsaber in case things get hairy in his neck of the woods. He cannot see the spy in question from where he is but the growing commotion seems to indicate the accusation might not be a drunk's rambling. "It was too much to hope they'd ALL be oblivious, PB!" Peacemaker shouts, looking over his armored shoulder as Shadow chases after him through the crowd, waving a menacing sword about. "Where the hell are you?!" With the sound of a screaming jet engine, a badass futurecar adorned with flame decals rolls up to the valet stand just in the nick of time. Without hesitating, Peacemaker leaps into the open window, his armored boots hanging out the side as Pointblank kicks it into gear and accelerates towards the gate on Galvatron's lavish Mexican narco-compound. "Faster, dammit! The entire Decepticon army's here!!" Peacemaker urges. Combat: Jet Car begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Experimental F-15 and Laserbeak The green visor over Pitchfork's left eye sputters to life and beeps. He flies off after he says, "Adios, bolsos de la suciedad. Le vere en infierno. Atiendo solamente a los partidos que estan SOBRE 9000!" Shockwave's eye flashes repeatedly as he announces in a loud, nigh omnipresent voice, "Red spy is in the base." Shadow promptly transforms. He hovers in the air, a small cannon extending from his underside. He fires a stream of electricity at the fleeing Pointblank. Dreadwind doesn't care about the bar fight, he couldn't stop it even if he wanted too as was proven the last time he got caught in one and ended up skewered through the chest. "Religion? That is just another illusion used to promote suffering and warfare. Existence is alive yes but not a creature as we know it, i am merely using simplified terms so that you may be able to compute what i am saying." Dreadwind rubs his head thinking down this low is giving him a bigger headache. Shadow transforms into his chopper mode. "Whatever," Ramjet grunts as Pitchfork bids his adios. His cone tilts back in shock, he no longer speaks the language of Galvatron's robo-gardners. "..Well. At least one terrible thing has reversed itself! Now to figure out how to restore my command!" Combat: Bell 430 Helicopter strikes Jet Car with his Electric Cannon attack! Combat: Pitchfork begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Bell 430 Helicopter, Excise, Galvatron, Reflector, Experimental F-15 , Dreadwind, Sharkticon , Laserbeak, Shockwave, Fusillade, and Jet Car Jet Car swerves as Shadow blasts his roof, causing him to smash into a little Mexican lady's fruit cart at 200 MPH and creating a delicious mist of papayas and oranjas and platanos. Doing a slow-mo corkscrew through the air, a lingering electric guitar note is pitch-bended before he hits the ground, under-chassis sparking against the poorly-maintained Mexican road. Peacemaker pulls himself into the driver's seat, lifting up his suit's faceplate and wiping sweat from his mouth. "Close call, PB. Let's call into base and set up that border rendesvous. Think Prime's gonna wanna hear about this." Laserbeak is lost but is putting up a brave front attempting to understand whats being said. He just watches each mech for their facial expressions and tones of their voice to pick up the real mood of this conversation and that is where he draws his conclusion on it. Snapdragon cocks his head to the side. "Using simplified terms so that -I- can compute what YOU are saying? That is rich. You think you're so enlightened to the depressing reality of the universe around us, but you've never even considered the possibility that others have had the same thoughts but dismissed them as being outwardly insane! You're full of yourself, and for no fragging reason. You speak of suffering but have endured nothing." Reflector returns to bartending, waiting, and k.o. con moving. Work is the only thing that makes sense. Hook blinks as theAutobot makes his getaway...Ooook...That was weird. He turns to Reflector "Can you refill this mug? I think I might need it before the end of the evening." The roly-poly Sharkball takes a break from crunching energon cubes to prod at the passedouticons. "Food?" he asks Reflector. Dreadwind will transmit nothing but depression for Laserbeak to pick up on as he can see that Snapdragon refuses to accept the truth and will likely make his point with violence any moment now, just like so many others. "The insane are those that have managed to see beyond the veil and decide to try and ignore it. Hiding in illusions that they create for themselves, to comfort them and protect against the bleak truth of it all." Catechism watches as the Autobot escapes and tokenly shakes a fist. "Well done, Shadow," Galvatron chuckles. Then, suddenly, he twitches, and his face spasms, twitching in anger a bit. His shoulders heave, and then he raises his fists and swings them down, as if in the beginnings of a dreaded... tantrum. "DECEPTICONS!" Galvatron roars. His cannon glows. "ALL OPTICS ON ME... AND MY..." Galvatron points his cannon at a nearby wall, and a beam of light flashes from it -- he apparently can use it as a projector now, too. "POWERPOINT PRESENTATION!" "/COMFORTABLE/?! GOOD! IN LIGHT OF THE RECENT... ENERGON CRISIS... I HAVE COME UP WITH A /PERFECT/ PLAN TO REPLENISH OUR RESERVES!" The powerpoint clicks on and there's a picture of Alaska, then another picture, then a picture of some delightful polar bears and moose and a hybrid car being driven by a friendly looking suburban dad. "SHUT UP OUT THERE." He again clears his robo throat, tapping the projector screen again. "STARTING TOMORROW AT 0600, WE WILL BE /STRIP MINING/ ALASKA FOR /ENERGON/--" He then shoots the wall, ending the presentation. "GET READY FOR /WORK/." Bell 430 Helicopter lands and transforms to watch the presentation. The black helicopter shifts into the form of Shadow. Monitor doesn't even bother with the Autobot...he's off duty tonight and he's much more interested by the change Galvatron is making within the empire than by an autobot spy. He looks up at Galvatron's presentation...ok energy raid. Good thing because he is well award their reserves are getting dangerously low...especially with NCC stuck un Shark mode and unable to use geothermal energy to convert it into energon. Excise sits back down as the spah is taken care of. He looks around for his energon cube, but alas it has been dropped and wasted. Galvatron is starting up his PowerPoint slide, and Excise starts to clap. "Excellent use of the Aqua theme, sir!" he calls out. Hook is happy at the announcement, for this is the kind of work he can really get into. The plans are already taking shape in his head. Open mining? Covert mining? Deception? Misdirection? Transport? Materials? Construction site? " Hook says, "This is going to be a great opportunity." Reflector makes a tall frothy for the enerholic Constructicon. Micro crystaline gas pockets bubble. "Enjoy." Ramjet rubs his forehead as he pays attention to Galvatron's presentation. Snapdragon begins ignoring Dreadwind now. It seems like an apt time, considering the presentation being done by the glorious and petrifying leader. Plus talking to Dread is like trying to have a conversation with a wall. Ultimately, you know how it is going to play out. Dreadwind is the master of the straight bat technique and none have ever got past his impressive defence. He also knows better than most how low energon reserves are, he's been on duty in the shark with all the lights off, while everyone else has been off having fun at the Olympic. Not that he cares it's just the beginning of the end and probably an explosive one if Soundwave ever gets around to detonating the bomb. "EXCUSE ME?!" Galvatron says, a baton materializing from subspace in one hand. He slashes it across the air in front of Excise, threatening the robot he just promoted. "THIS IS /SHUT UP/ TIME, EXCISE, NOT TALK /BACK/ TIME!" The maniacal Decepticon's voice grows louder, and his face continues twitching. So does his body, actually. He seems like he's kind of... losing it. "HOOK! YOU DARE SPEAK OUT TO /ME/?!" Galvatron marches over to Snapdragon. "ALL DECEPTICONS SHORTER THAN /THIS/--" and here Galvatron jabs his baton out to the top of Snapdragon's head, "--ARE NOW /ASSIGNED/ TO MEXICO. YOU'RE ON /BORDER PATROL/, LITTLE ROBOTS. AND IT'S GOING TO /SUCK/. YOUR FENCE BUILDING INSTRUCTIONS WILL BE UPLOADED VIA /HEAD MAIL/. /SOMEONE/ HAS TO /KEEP IN/ THE /MEXICANS/!" Galvatron's eyes are flashing wildly, like a casino marquee. Excise stops clapping and cowers, holding his hands up in front of himself defensively. 'yes sir!' he mouths with his robo-lips, though he doesn't dare actually speak out loud. Looks like he is not cock of the walk after all! Snapdragon freezes like a possum when Galvatron approaches him and makes his bizarre pronouncement. Don't move. He can't see you if you don't move. Laserbeak's optics widen and then he frowns. FEnces? Fences? Hes not made to build fences and border patrol! He falls into a pout. Shadow just stays quiet for now. Shockwave must have taught Galvatron that cannon trick. Shockwave loves PowerPoint. "The logistic issues will be challenging," notes Shockwave, "as they involve the removal and transport of massive quantities of material. However, in light of the ability of the Autobots to coincidentally stumble upon all of our operations, regardless of how remote or secret, we can expect that a major operation on the North American mainland will not be significantly more difficult than one in, for example, Madagascar or the moons of Neptune." Monitor grinds his robot teeth as he hears that he's assigned to border patrol... "Great job constructicon" he mutters for himself, though people around him could hear it. He has much more important things to do than keeping an optics on the fleshies... Crossing his arms on his chest he start to devise a strategy to avoid that duty. Catechism checks her height versus Snapdragon, and she sags. She is assigned to border patrol. That sucks! Maybe she could buy some stilts... oooorrr she could whip up some official sounding Inquistor duty to do and just sit in the guard house, eating energon goodies. Hook is taken by surprise by Galvatron's outburst which makes no sense. Everyone shorter than Snapdragon means much the workforce gifted a brain, not only that but it includes Galvatron himself and the sweeps. Hopefully Cyclonus can bring the guy back on the edge of sanity. Reflector considers just going 'on extended offworld duty'. Dreadwind doesn't need to check his height he knows that he's shorter by a lot and gets assigned to yet another pointless task, no one can keep the Mexicans in, no matter how hard they try. Laserbeak looks at Dreadwind and seems to guess what he might be thinking. He squawks, <"Least we can have target practice whenever we want..."> But that still doenst make him feel enthused about this. He'd rather be back on Cybetron but orders are orders...strange as they may seem. Galvatron strides away from Snapdragon, given a wide berth by the crowd because he is clearly in the middle of some sort of psychotic episode. "NYYYYARRRRGG--" And then, with a dull 'boom' and a brilliant orange beam of light, Galvatron's head explodes. As the body falls to its knees and then to the ground, the shooter -- up in the sky -- becomes apparent. It is... GALVATRON. Looking haggard and worn, his paintjob is faded and chipped, and bits of garbage and detritus cling to his normally highly-polished frame -- Galvatron (?) floats above the crowd, sneering imperiously. He tilts his head down, and his voice says in an authoritarian, Nimoy-esque rasp (as opposed to the other one's pure Welker mania): "Everyone... stop. I've got something to say." In his other arm, this broken-down Galvatron appears to be carrying half of Cyclonus. "WHAT THE F---" Ramjet shouts, in disbelief. Another Galvatron duplicate! Not again! Not again! "Not again! Not again!!" He has an awful habit of echoing what he is thinking. Monitor raises his head and stares...just stares... They had a Megatron...then a Galvatron...then both...then Galvatron and now... Galvatrons... This is getting more and more complicated. Sharkticon just keeps eating. Reflector chalks it up to drunken stupors. Dreadwind sighs, "Oh great we've had another imposter trying to take control of us, you think people would get tired of trying that trick but apparently it hasn't quite got tired just yet." Shadow just stares. "Lord...Galvatron?" Snapdragons optics go wide. "What the f--- indeed." He whispers to himself. Laserbeak looks up into the sky at that Galvatron, <"Does this mean no border patrol -- or target practice?"> Arn unnecessarily gleeful, "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, explosions!" rings out somewhere in the back of the crowd from Fusillade. "Intriguing," remarks Shockwave, "but not entirely unexpected." He keeps his reactor spun up to military power all the same. One never knows with these clone/time-travelling/ghost/holographic disguise Galvatrons. Ramjet clenches his hands together and seethes. "Why can't Cyclonus stay dead!?!" he says to himself. "For a year..." Galvatron -- the living one -- rasps, floating down toward the ground, "I have been kept imprisoned... by /this one/." Galvatron throws down the half-a-Cyclonus, its life clearly snuffed out. "He called himself ARMADA. I call him terminated. During the Civil War -- just when victory loomed -- he... switched us." Galvatron turns around, facing the crowd, glaring at them all. "How did you morons not /notice/ that you spent a year following the whims of my INSANE CLONE?!" Ramjet pauses. "Then.. .. which.. Galvatron did I.. er.. Megatron-as-Galvatron kill!?" Hook blinks but is more or elss surprised as the Galvatron on the floor was more insane than usual...big time. Catechism tilts her head to the side and says, unwisely, "But I thought we /were/ following the clone." Reflector gives up and sneaks away. Far too logical and sober to want to bother. Shockwave, wisely, does not say anything about Galvatron's interchangeability with his insane clone. Snapdragon is mostly just glad to hear old-new-Galvatrons old-new voice. It's more soothing in its own horrific way. Still, he just stays quiet rather than incite wrath. Shadow shifts a bit. "He played the part so well," he mumbles. And then, louder, he says, "But it is good to have the real you back, milord." Galvatron -- the live one -- fumes, and shoots his dead, insane clone again, causing the body to explode. "Do the math," he snarls at Ramjet. "There's only room for ONE Galvatron. Period. And he... is... me. As it ever was... and so shall it ever be." His voice remains totally Nimoy'd out. As people question his sanity, directly or indirectly, Galvatron ignores them. "I have a year of war to catch up on," he says. "I will not be interrupted. Anyone who wishes to challenge my power... just take a look at these two." Galvatron then lifts off and begins to fly away, into the night sky. Excise gasps along with everyone else as a second Galvatron arrives! The triplechanger backs away, hoping to blend in with the crowd. He hopes to Primus that this doesn't somehow invalidate the promotion he just received. He fidgets, hoping not to be noticed when Galvatron asks why nobody noticed how crazy he was. "D'gh," Ramjet grunts. Dreadwind really doesn't care who leads the Decepticons, whoever is in charge just forces him to do things, when it's all a waste of effort and completely pointless. "I doubt it Laserbeak, it more than likely means it will be somewhere worse." Hook looks at the bodies and heads for Shockwave the ranking officer since Galvatron just left. "Sir, do you want me to arrange for the bodies to be transported back to NCC for further examination or should we simply destroy them even further?" Laserbeak pulls his head back and stares at Dreadwind. <"What can be worse then this dustball?"> Shockwave levels an imperious finger at Hook. "Clean that debris up and deliver it to my reclamation facilities on Cybertron for destructive analysis and reprocessing into spare parts for Galvatron and Cyclonus," Shockwave commands, indicating the blown-up Galvatron. Catechism has no desire to make any interruptions, no siree! She, in fact, also tries to blend in with the crowd some more. Dreadwind says, "You don't want to know Laserbeak." Monitor glances towards Shockwave and Hook pondering how he could get his hands on some part of those body for his own experimentations before they are brought to Darkmount. This is not his primary concern though, he wonders what this new Galvatron has in mind. No questioning about who's the real one... who cares? He's the one with the bigger gun. Hook snaps a salute at Shockwave "Understood commander." and radios Long Haul with the instructions a few code words because hauling crap is beneath the surgeon. Laserbeak mms and just looks back at the continuing scene in silence. Snapdragon just continues watching as the scene unfolds. Wild. FAR, FAR AWAY Thunderwing turns away from a monitor screen displaying the Mexican antics. "It's as feared. Armada is lost to us -- the real Galvatron is loose." Behind him, an automated assembly line works on something -- arm-units connecting plates of some kind of giant suit of armor. Thunderwing reaches for a beaker of ener-sherry, and pours some into a smaller beaker, drinking it down in one gulp. "We really had them going for a while there, too, despite the missteps -- I thought we were finished when the clone broke down for all those months and we had to fabricate some disapperance for it. Hmph." Thunderwing is talking to a screen. The Decepticon scientist smiles. "Still, though, it almost feels like the end of an era." On the screen, the ugly, blocky red-and-yellow face of Jhiaxus grimaces. "No, Thunderwing -- the end... of a /generation/." FIN . . .?